


the poetics of war (and all the small battles in between)

by 3minswriting



Series: steel and silk [1]
Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, inaccuracies bcs this is shamelessly self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27506326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3minswriting/pseuds/3minswriting
Summary: The tales of a flowering knight, sweet as a tangerine blossom.
Relationships: Hwang Minhyun/Kang Dongho | Baekho, Hwang Minhyun/Kang Dongho | Baekho/Kim Jonghyun | JR, Kang Dongho | Baekho/Kim Jonghyun | JR
Series: steel and silk [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010757
Comments: 17
Kudos: 27





	1. hana

**Author's Note:**

> the only person who reads these notes knows this is for them.

-

"Will you be attending later tonight?" 

Dongho wants to say no, pretend that he has a choice, but he knows better. 

They both do.

"Yes, I'll be there."

Takes a deep breath, shifts his muscles until a smile settles on his lips; precarious, like a broken sentence caught on the edge of a half-spooled scroll. It doesn't matter if the rearrangement doesn't strike the flint in his eyes and brighten them; he can't remember the last time that he felt that spark go off in his chest anyway. 

It's a dark cavern under the bars of his ribs and he has no interest in exploring it as he would any of the thoughts that circle his head while watching Minhyun fasten the top of his _durumagi_ jacket. On the other side of the room, Minhyun adjusts the wine setting of cloth across his chest, elegant as a mountain ash in the height of autumn. 

"Make sure you wear the cherry blossom one-" Minhyun wanders through the space, fixing his collar as he turns his head away momentarily from the mirror to look at him, and laughs, "-Dongho that is not how you do it."

"I'd like to see you do better." Dongho pulls his elbows up higher above his head. 

The loose silk ties of his _jeogori_ trace the flushed skin of his chest, while, biceps straining, Dongho's fingers vainly continue to tangle themselves in long strands. 

The laughter settles in Minhyun's throat and Dongho watches him out of the corner of his eye now, wandering towards him. He looks away when knees nudge his own, pushing him to, "Sit." 

"I can do it." Dongho raises his voice, pitch almost as high as his elbows.

"Badly." Minhyun agrees, knocking his hands out of the way before kneeling over Dongho.

The feathery fabric depresses under Minhyun's weight and Dongho's shoulders follow suit. His hands fall useless on his lap, palms up. Empty as the lights that don't flicker, not even as short fingers take up the task of combing through wavy locks for him into a thick waterfall of black ripples. Minhyun's grip is light, careful. Blunt nails scrape through Dongho's scalp, parting black strands to reveal pale roads of skin as well-travelled by his lover's touch as every other inch of him. Dongho tilts his head, shuts his eyes. Winces when Minhyun's fingers snag on a knot and hisses. 

Minhyun clicks his tongue, thumb rubbing a small cul-de-sac into the sore spot. "If you can't even be bothered with a comb, why don't you-"

"-what would you have left to complain about, if I did?" 

A quiet laugh, halting, that simmers into a low hum as Dongho is forced to move his palms and allow Minhyun to take their place on his lap. 

"Oh, there's a lot." There's no venom in it; Dongho can't remember a time where Minhyun's smile could be anything but gentle, let alone the kisses now which puncture the silence, breathed against Dongho's creased forehead. The hands in his hair carefully tug his head back, forcing his chin up higher.

It saves Dongho the energy to do it himself, and he would have. 

"Then why don't you-" 

"-because what would you complain about, if I did?" Minhyun throws his words back at him. The tip of his nose skims the bridge of Dongho's.

"The weather, perhaps." Dongho looks beyond the isometric slats of painted wood, glimpsing the darkening spring sky in between them. "Mingi's cooking. His Majesty ordering me to- mh-" 

Black curls trickle between the tanned valley of his back muscles, cascading freely as Minhyun places his hands over Dongho's chest, finding bare skin.

"But that would not be as fun for you, would it?" Minhyun pushes and like water, like the length of his hair that grows only in glory for the Emperor they both serve, Dongho falls back and spreads himself comfortably on the futon. His limbs spill carelessly as the soft moans from his mouth, both swallowed up in the hurried eagerness of Minhyun's touch.

"Minhyun-ah, we can't-" He tries to move.

Outside, the sky grows darker still. Lanterns are already being lit by quiet attendants, speckling the courtyard like fireflies. 

"Why? Why can't we-" Minhyun insists, hand sliding down a trembling thigh, the heat penetrating white silk and red blood until Dongho's breathing bubbles. 

"Because-"

A sharp rap at the door freezes the air in Dongho's chest. Minhyun looks over his shoulder, every muscle tense. He lowers himself silently, the folds of his silk jacket smothering every speck of Dongho's body from view of the doorway, the window, the budding lamplight seeping through the wooden slats. 

"General Hwang, his Majesty has asked for your presence in the hall." From the other side of the door, the voice is sharp.

"I will be there shortly." Minhyun calls. Remains in position until his response is acknowledged by the servant and footsteps fade into silence.

Dongho shifts, batting away the thick sleeves covering his face and draws his knees up. Puts a barrier of flesh between himself and Minhyun's strained smile.

"Dongho-"

"I should go." Dongho strangles the flimsy silk ties of his top between calloused fingers and knots them together. He rolls off the futon, pulls away from the gentle tug at his hair. "They will come to my quarters next and if I am not there-" 

"Then they will go to Kwak's quarters and call on him next." Minhyun's breath falls on a silk-covered shoulder. "We still have at least-"

"No, we don't." Dongho shakes his head, smoothing through the rumpled futon blankets impatiently, "..where is it, I-"

"Dongho.." A thick cord of red string, intricately knotted, dangles in offering between Minhyun's fingers. "Sit with me. A few more minutes."

When Dongho doesn't move beyond pulling his vest on, Minhyun stands up. The space that had been between them is lessened in a few strides. "Just a few."

Dongho sighs. 

They do not have time. 

He runs his hands through his hair, shaking the waves loose and nods at Minhyun. Without needing any further encouragement, there is as little space between them as there is daylight in the sky. 

"This isn't sitting. You owe me that." Careful hands sweep away the strands, gathering and twisting until there is a tight knot secured at the crown of Dongho's head. 

"Always complaining, Minhyun." Dongho grins, and just like that, with Minhyun's lips staining his with a slow kiss, as though they had all the time in the world, as though they had nothing to hide, he finds it.

The flint is struck, and there is light.

"I would have nothing else, if it weren't for you." Minhyun chuckles, follows Dongho to the door that leads to the courtyard. From there, a short walk to the barracks. "I will see you in a few minutes."

Dongho shrugs, laughing. It will feel like years, always does.

"Yes, in a few."

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✦come talk to me :3 [fic twitter](https://twitter.com/3minswriting)✦


	2. deul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He would never have given the order had he known it would be like this.
> 
> But then, he did not need the winds to speak to him of what delicate flowers needed in order to grow.
> 
> Jonghyun knew. 
> 
> Even the commonest of men, born to only toil fields and raise a spear in the name of the Kim Dynasty, knew.
> 
> And Jonghyun was no commoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is the last day of spring and i might have made a promise to a certain someone.
> 
> for my spring breeze.

-

Legends, Kim Jonghyun knows, are a precious part of living. He has always thought of them himself as the bone of the body of his beautiful nation; that immeasurable, infallible strength which, unchangeable, ensures that all know their place in this wild world. 

There is a comfort in such knowledge. Just as Jonghyun knows that his own bones are why his body is wrapped in red silks and the weight of fine gold rests on his head, it is comforting to look at the stars and know one streaking across the sky portends to good fortune. 

That a sky too crimson warns fishermen return home, or that cold winds from the northern mountains always whisper of incoming rain.

_Where were you, winds_ , Jonghyun casts a frustrated eye to the towering green pillars over his shoulder as he walks, _to warn me of such treachery?_

He would never have given the order had he known it would be like this.

But then, he did not need the winds to speak to him of what delicate flowers needed in order to grow.

Jonghyun knew. 

Even the commonest of men, born to only toil fields and raise a spear in the name of the Kim Dynasty, knew.

And Jonghyun was no commoner.

"Your Majesty has chosen well," At his side, his chief advisor Aron looks up at the sky beyond the cover of the courtyard corridor and grins, "it seems as if the Gods' blessings are upon the ride today." 

Behind them, a train of attendants murmur in agreement with the young General's comment and crane their heads to admire for themselves. Overhead, clouds scatter as though an explosion of plum blossom petals dance across an ancient lake. Sunlight taps on the green eyelids of the sleepy northern mountains, and their misty breath spreads a fine drizzle through the valleys.

"So it would seem." Jonghyun returns. 

Instead of the sky, same as the one he beheld from his cold bedcovers this morning, Jonghyun looks to the busy palace courtyard. 

Hundreds of young men mill in loose formation, resplendent in black and green armour. The noise of chatter is hardly dampened by the cool weather. Nor, can Jonghyun see, are their spirits. All faces wear excited smiles as they chat amongst each other. At the western gate their steeds stand patient, awaiting the approach of their masters.

There is only one smile that Jonghyun looks for among them, finds it easily in the crowd. It could be hidden under a woven hat, such as on the day they first met years ago, or peeking through the cherry blossoms in the gardens, and he would always be able to find it. 

A smile that is now aimed towards another. 

Another, to whom it does not belong. 

Jonghyun's jaw shifts. Clenches.

"I've always enjoyed sunshowers," Aron continues, softer this time, "reminds me of the tale of the wedding of the tiger and the fo- y-your Majesty? Wait! You'll get-" 

Jonghyun continues to walk across the courtyard. Leaves behind the flustered train of attendants scampering to grab paper umbrellas. They'll catch up. He'll barely have more than a few moments alone before there is paper and bamboo protecting the crown on his head.

He doesn't slow. 

Why should he?

It's just a little rain. A little sun. 

A little legend.

It shouldn’t mean anything.

Not to an Emperor.

-

Ahead, the soldiers react instantly to the commotion from the palace corridors. The moment their Emperor approaches, conversation explodes and instantly fizzles. Neat lines are settled before Jonghyun is even halfway across the courtyard, all men presenting themselves with low bows. 

They are the picture of immaculate obedience. Within the confines of the palace, they hold true to their oaths under the Emperor's watchful eye out of true fidelity or fear of punishment. 

_Which one_ , Jonghyun thinks as he stops in front of the lowered head of curly hair bundled with a red string, so achingly out of reach, _is it that preserves your smile for me, my love?_

Sweet perfume mingles with the soft rain. Jonghyun twitches his nose. He had never particularly cared for the emphasis on the softness and beauty of the Hwarang guard. In fact, under his rule he had most cut their hair short- including their vain Commander. It had not been a popular decree. Jonghyun cared not for the petty complaints, for what was their hair but a mane of self-importance for most of them? Only those who had proven themselves to be free of such failings had been permitted to keep their locks untouched. 

It served as a reminder, too. These soldiers might be nobles, firstborn sons of powerful clans, but they belonged to the crown. They were his to command. To send to defend or conquer as the Kingdom required.

_You are mine, Dongho-ah, yet you seem to forget-_

He turns cursory glances along the rows. Raises his chin before addressing the soldier bowed to his left.

"General Hwang." At his voice, Jonghyun is pleased to see Minhyun's shoulders tense. 

With less satisfaction, he notices the soldier in front of him does too. 

"Your Majesty?" Minhyun speaks calmly, but there's a hint of laughter in there too, always is, as if he thinks that by bowing he can conceal his amusement from the Emperor himself.

Nothing, however, escapes the notice of Kim Jonghyun.

"Are your men ready?"

"Yes, your Majesty. General Choi is gathering the last of the supplies before we ride on your orders." 

"I see." Jonghyun flicks his sleeves free of water droplets like a swordsman clearing blood off his blade. "So then, you are not truly ready, are you?" 

"I-" Minhyun turns instinctively to his right, catching the slightest glimpse of the soldier bowing beside him. "Not yet, your Majesty, we- the rain-." 

"Ah yes, the _rain_ ," Jonghyun tilts his head towards the sunny sky, water freckling his cheeks, "is the rain the reason I see you bothering one of _my_ soldiers instead of doing your job as Commander, Hwang? Are you blaming the Gods for this?"

Instead of shame, it's that cloaked laughter that he hears in Minhyun's response, "No, your Majesty. I would only thank the Gods for this rain.” There’s a pause, purposeful, teasing. Jonghyun can see the tips of the other soldier’s ears are turning red when Minhyun tilts his head towards him and adds as though the Emperor is not _right there,_ “In fact, I was just telling Kang that a sunshower is a good omen for lovers." 

Before he can snap, gravel skids behind Jonghyun and he turns slightly, frowning. Two umbrellas immediately crowd above his head, blocking the rain.

"Your Majesty, you are getting wet. You shouldn't run out in the rain like this." Aron is still catching his breath, smiling, but his gaze meaningfully flickers to the large crowd around them. "I know you are eager to speak with your soldiers," he continues with careful emphasis, "but you must think of yourself too." 

"Yes, yes." Sighing, Jonghyun heeds the unspoken advice and gestures for all soldiers to be at ease. "You are all dismissed to continue preparations." Gradually, the rows stand upright and begin to disperse. 

He waits for Aron's subtle nod before he allows himself to turn around again. When he does, Jonghyun is finally given the smile he had been watching from afar.

And finally, it is aimed at him.

Shoulders lowering, Jonghyun barely retains his calm expression when he greets him, "Soldier Kang."

"Your Majesty." Dongho inclines his head, more out of shyness than excessive respect. 

If only they had been alone, Jonghyun wishes, if they had been standing in his private garden, then he would have blessed the Gods for this sunshower. Alone and he would have wrapped his arms around the slender waist of the man before him, pulled him close, and admired him with more than just his eyes. 

Because in the sun and rain, Dongho is breathtaking. The cold rain brings colour to his cheeks and adds pearls to the brown whorls of his long hair; the sun adds light to eyes that recently, Jonghyun noticed were often so sad, lacking their usual amber glow. 

But they are not alone and he cannot take as he pleases. 

So Jonghyun settles for a slow smile and a small step forward. Behind him, Aron tilts the umbrella until it shades both Emperor and soldier. 

“So your Commander was only telling you of the legends of the sunshower?” Jonghyun asks. _Is that what I saw from across the courtyard, Dongho-ah? Were my eyes clouded by green instead of rain?_

“It is as the General said.” Dongho nods, “He was telling me of the fox weddings, how it is a sign of good luck.”

"And?” _His hand on your wrist, your smile for him?_

Dark eyes bore into amber. Under the weight of Jonghyun's restrained stare, the corner of Dongho's lips lift with little strain and he laughs, "Your Majesty knows I am fascinated by the legends of the mainland. They’re often different to those of Jeju-do."

_Fascination, is that all it is?_ Jonghyun allows himself to let out a sigh. 

"And do you believe in them?" He knows the answer but he wants Minhyun to hear it for himself from Dongho’s lips.

"I prefer to place my trust in the hearts of my fellow man than the changeable Gods." 

"As innocent as ever, Kang." Jonghyun spares a glance towards General Hwang. He waits to see the man's smile falter before returning triumphantly to Dongho, "You will find the hearts of men can be even more fickle." 

"I believe in my Emperor," Dongho smiles, glancing at Minhyun as well, “and my Commander.” He shifts to look beyond Jonghyun’s shoulder to meet Aron’s gaze, ”and General Kwak. All of the men that your Majesty trusts, I will trust in them too.”

To the west, there is a shout of soldiers and the groan of wood. The gates are opening. In the distance, a small contingent headed by a loud commander on horseback begins to round up the rest of the army.

“General Choi is back,” Dongho says softly, “..the ride..”

Again, Jonghyun feels his heart slithering like the dragon on his crest as he sees Dongho and Minhyun look at each other, some unspoken words flitting between them. Without the fog of distance and rain obscuring his eyes, the unease resettles in Jonghyun’s gut.

“We must prepare as per your orders.” Minhyun bows to the Emperor, reaching for Dongho’s wrist to guide him from under the umbrella and to his side.

Jonghyun bristles, _they’re my orders, Hwang, I can-_

But he can’t. 

Even an Emperor has limits, and he cannot control time nor the movements of his enemies…

yet.

  
  
  


“I expect your return in three weeks. Be sure it is with good news, General.” He dismisses them, catching Dongho’s eye just as they begin to leave and the name leaves his lips before he or Aron can stop it from happening, “Kang-”

“Your Majesty?” A stray ringlet drips at Dongho’s chin, spun free from the high bun at the crown of his head. 

_It’s Jonghyun,_ he nearly says, the Gods, the soldiers and Minhyun be damned, _call me as you did last spring under the cherry blossoms_.

But the cheerful sunshower strips fragile flower petals from their branches and curtains the distance between them, which, unchangeable, reminds Jonghyun of his place in this wild world.

Spring, he knows, is almost over. 

Soon it will be summer, and with it, more sunshowers.

Jonghyun can feel it in his bones. 

“-fight well, Kang.” He turns away, squares his shoulders. 

_And I will fight too, for you._

  
  


-

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading, kudos/comments are always very much appreciated!
> 
> ✦[fic twitter](https://twitter.com/3minswriting)✦


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